ors were so intense they hurt her, made her feel ill.

what is it?

she was disoriented, frozen to the spot, unable to tell exactly where she was in her own bathroom.

i see something. colors. red and yellow. like heat images. take a deep breath, your heart is beating too fast. it is nothing. let the images go. you may have been seeing what i was seeing. our connection is strong.

byron bit back the ominous growl in this throat, hackles rising. he shifted shape back to his human form and bent over her sleeping cousin.

cautiously, antonietta opened her eyes and saw the comforting darkness.

that made me sick to my stomach. how strange.

rather than use the centuries-old bathing pools, now modernized, antonietta filled her private bathtub and tossed in scented salts. she wanted to feel beautiful tonight she needed to feel beautiful.

where are you?

she didn't want to be alone. in spite of her bravado, she was frightened by the events of the evening and wanted the comfort of byron's powerful presence. she peeled off her damp slacks and laid them carefully on the vanity. the simple act of removing her lacy bra and panties made her feel sexy. a tempting siren.

she stepped into the bath, sank into the blessedly hot water, and allowed her head to fall back against the side of the tub.

i am standing over your cousin paul. he is sleeping deeply, and i do not think it is a normal sleep. i must spend a few minutes examining him. are the windows in your rooms closed and secured?

her breasts floated on the scented water as she relaxed.

i didn't think to check. i will before i go to bed. have you smelled a strange odor? a wild cat. large breed.

antonietta sat up straight, the water beading, rushing down her skin.

why would you think that? what made you ask me that?

byron was silent, analyzing her voice. there was fear in her tone. fear in her mind, but her barriers were intact and strong. for a moment he considered pushing through to get the information he needed, but she was his lifemate, and he had learned, all too well, the danger of trying to force and manipulate. patience, he reminded himself. above all, a carpathian male could endure.

antonietta could not escape him, now that he found her. he had not counted on danger in her own home.

byron? why would you think i would smell a wild cat?

she sounded very anxious. for the first time he wished he could see images around her through her eyes. he felt textures through her, but there were no images to aid him. he had to use feelings. emotions were still somewhat alien and overpowering. it made him dangerous and near the edge of control.

i smell a cat here, in this room. and also i smelled the same creature in your grandfather's room.

he answered truthfully because she was his lifemate, but his instincts told him she knew something he did not.

are you with paul or franco? paul.

there was another long silence. he tuned his acute hearing to finding her room. bathwater splashed as if she were agitated. he closed his eyes with a small groan, picturing her lush body naked and floating in the scented water. her silky hair would be surrounding her, an allure he would never be able to resist.

his entire body tightened, hardened to a painful ache. antonietta. how much he wanted her. how difficult it was to wait. he savored every moment with her. and his creativity, so long gone, was returning, thanks to her.

is it paul? does he have the scent of a cat?

there was reluctance to her voice, as if she might be betraying someone... or something she held dear. and there was an underlying note of fear. she tried to hide it, but it was there.

byron leaned over paul, examining every inch of him, paying attention to his fingernails, his arms, looking for scratches, for any telltale sign that would indicate he had been a party to the attack on don giovanni and his grand-daughter. there was one long scratch along the inside of his left forearm. it looked raw and angry.

byron! please, does he have the scent of the cat?

the scarletti palazzo and the family dwelling there had nearly as many secrets as his own people. byron inhaled deeply. the scent of the cat permeated the room. it was difficult to tell if paul had the scent or not.

i have no idea. it reeks in here of the scent. if it is not paul, the cat has been here. do you keep large cats or know someone who does?

a slight noise downstairs distracted him immediately. byron's head snapped up, and his black eyes flashed with instant menace. someone was making their way up the long, curving staircase. soft, stealthy footfalls. furtive. the whisper of material against the thick banister sounded overly loud to byron. a small, wolfish smile softened the hard edge to his mouth. not bothering to scan, he simply waited in the darkness for his prey to come to him.

of course not.

the footsteps were at the top of the first landing. whoever it was hesitated, then turned toward paul's suite of rooms. byron shrank back into the shadows. his lengthened incisors were exposed, and when the door opened just a crack, the dim light from the hall turned his eyes a fiery bloodred.

he knew her instantly. antonietta's trusted assistant, justine travis, stepped cautiously inside the room, closing the door behind her. she took several steps into the middle of the room but stopped, not attempting to cross to the bed.

"paul?"

silence greeted her. the man in the bed didn't stir. byron was certain he had been drugged, but it was necessary to check him. either way, it didn't make him innocent. a smart man might try to commit murder and drug himself to make it appear as if he were in danger, too.

hunger stirred, a dark and terrible need that welled up sharp and overpowering. byron had not fed, and he had used considerable energy saving don giovanni from the cold depths of the sea. healing had drained him, driving out the poison from the fragile system, and now he craved and needed. he could hear the call of the rich, hot blood rushing through veins bursting with the life his shrunken cells needed. he moved, a blink of the eye, no more, and he stood behind justine. her hair was drawn up into a simple ponytail, pulled away from her neck and leaving her throat exposed. he could see her pulse beating rapidly.

justine sighed and wrung her hands together in obvious agitation. "paul, wake up. i have to talk to you. i'm sorry we fought, but you have to understand i can't risk my job," justine touched her throat with her palm, a defensive movement as if she sensed the predator so close to her. "you know i'll do anything to help you. we'll find another way to get the money. i'll help you, i will."

paul didn't respond but continued to lie motionless on the bed.

justine sobbed softly. "i didn't mean it when i said we were over. i'll find a way to help you, paul. don't do anything rash until i figure things out. you know you would feel so awful if you did anything that would harm or betray your family." she waited a moment. "please, paul, answer me." when paul didn't answer or turn toward her, justine jammed her fist into her mouth to muffle her weeping.

a dark shadow fell across her so that justine shivered and half turned, her eyes widening with terror. the predator in the shadows spoke softly to calm her, whispered a command even as he enfolded her in his arms. she tilted her head and gazed up at him with blind rapture.

byron looked down into her face. her mind was chaotic, filled with thoughts of paul. of how she loved him, how she didn't want to betray antonietta but... he smiled, and there was no humor in that smile, only a showing of fangs. "it is in you to be treacherous, and you have chosen the wrong alliance." his voice held a whip of contempt so that even under his dark enthrallment, justine winced. byron bent his head, teeth sinking into soft flesh, and drank.